Kindred Spirits
by Phantom Muse
Summary: It seems that oddities can appear nearly anywhere at any time. For Kiera, her oddities and misfotunes drive her from her home on many adventures. When she meets a masked man in Persia, she comes to realize that her life is not as terrible as it seems.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters (even though I have yet to mention any characters from said production... yet).**

**FYI-This is the new version of Someone Like Me. For any of you who read Someone Like Me, believe me, this is not the same as before. I've made A LOT of changes to the beginning that you need to read, not to mention its much better written than the old one. No evil POV changes in this one... all omniscent. :D And for those of you just joining this little tale, I hope you enjoy it.**

Daniel Williamson, a wealthy business owner from London, England, had come to Paris for a bit of business and relaxation. He knew, or at least, had heard, this city was full of beautiful buildings, beautiful monuments, beautiful music, and of course, beautiful women. He could not deny his interest in perhaps scanning the population for a lovely Mrs. Williamson but hardly expected to find one. So, he went about his time there in admiration of the sites, sounds, and smells, occasionally tending to some matter that pertained to his business, but mostly, he enjoyed his reprieve from London's hustle and bustle. A few days, before he was to return to London, he met a young French woman by the name of Emilie Dubois. Her family owned a small café not far from Notre Dame Cathedral, and this is where Daniel first met her. At first, he ignored her; she was nothing more than a waitress, but the more he observed her, the more beautiful she seemed to become. It wasn't long before he asked her name and if he might take her to an elegant restaurant. She finally accepted, with the permission of her father and mother.

Soon, Daniel visited Emilie in Paris every other weekend and wrote daily letters to her. Within a year, they were married. Although she spoke very clear English, Emilie convinced him that she would feel very out of place in England; Daniel, not wanting to upset his new bride, decided they would live in Paris, since he spoke very fluent French. He moved his little business to Paris and set to work with Emilie as his assistant. She did anything and everything he asked of her; one could not ask for a better wife. After a year, she announced to him that she was pregnant. Daniel was ecstatic and anxious for the child to be born. Emilie laughed at him and told him that he should not rush things along; the little one would arrive in due time.

As the months passed, Emilie began to show more and more until she looked as though she may burst. Throughout her pregnancy, Daniel, along with her parents, waited on her hand and foot, much to her dismay; Emilie had never been a very dependent individual; however, she realized that it was in her best interest. To keep her healthy, Daniel forbade her from working too much; he insisted that she stay off her feet as much as possible and not try to lift anything. Of course, she frowned upon the idea of not helping him and did as much as her swollen belly would permit.

At last, on a cold day in February, Emilie found herself surrounded by her mother, a midwife, and another woman who had come with the midwife to assist in the child's delivery. Pain surged through her body at shorter and shorter intervals until she couldn't control her cries or the urge to purge her body of the child. The midwife, positioned at the foot of the bed, commanded her to stop and wait. When Emilie's mother's face blanched, she knew something was wrong. She begged to know what was wrong and if her baby was going to be all right. However, no one would answer. She raised her voice again and this time received an answer she did not at all want to hear. The birth cord was wrapped around the child's neck, cutting off its air supply. Unless Emilie did exactly as instructed, the midwife assured her that the infant would perish before taking its first breath.

Consumed by pain and fright, Emilie listened carefully to every word and direction spoken by the midwife and followed her orders as best she could for the child's sake. For what seemed hours, the midwife worked with a pair of scissors to free the child; then, with one last push, the pain in Emile's body subsided, leaving only the sound of her heavy panting. Her child was silent in the midwife's arms and remained so for many long moments. The entire room was silent; everyone thought the baby had died. However, Emilie refused to believe that her child's fate had been sealed so soon and asked to hold it. The midwife nodded and handed the baby girl to her mother.

"Wake up, my child, please." She ran her fingers down the baby's pale cheek, tears filling her eyes as the child remained perfectly still. "No…please." She held the little one against her chest and began to pray quietly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't take my baby," she pleaded. Then, she felt movement in her arms, followed by a muffled cry. The cries immediately became quite strong as she proclaimed her displeasure in being removed from her mother. The tears of grief in Emilie's eyes quickly turned to tears of joy. "She's alive…" she gasped in her gleeful laughter. "My baby is alive."

The midwife and her assistant smiled and took the baby to be washed up and wrapped in some warm blankets to shield her from the cold. Emilie's mother, Rosaline, kissed her daughter's cheek and hugged her tightly. "She's such a pretty little girl… like her mother." She kissed Emilie's forehead. "Now, we should clean you up as well." Rosaline set to work tidying up the bed as Emilie bathed as best as her weary body would permit, changing into a fresh night gown before returning to the clean linens her mother had put on her bed.

Daniel, who had nearly worn a hole in the floor outside the room from his pacing, fearfully faced Rosaline when the door opened. He did not dare look beyond his mother-in-law's face, fearful of the sight he might find. However, she assured him that all was well and his family was just fine. Relief washed over him, a massive sigh leaving his lungs. Rosaline did not keep the anxious father waiting for longer than need be before allowing him into the room. The midwife and her assistant, along with Rosaline, left the family alone to enjoy their first few minutes as a family in private.

Emilie smiled as Daniel sat down on the edge of the bed, gently rocking the cooing infant in her arms. "Say 'hello' to your daughter, my dear. I've told her how wonderful a papa she has and that he has been aching to meet her." Placing the little girl in her father's arms, Emilie watched contentedly as her husband inspected their daughter's face and smiled. He held her in his arms as though she were made of glass, careful not to jar her about, commenting on her beauty.

As time transpired, they decided on a name that seemed to fit their daughter… Kiera Mary-Rosaline. Her first name was composed by the combination of Kirk, Daniel's father, and Erran, Emilie's father. Her middle name was in honor of her grandmothers. The gleeful grandparents stood around the room chattering happily. Emilie's parents talked about how they would spoil her with lots of picnics and horse-back riding in the countryside, while Daniel's parents, who were visiting from London, talked about sending her to an English school for the best education possible. The proud parents watched and listened in amusement as their families fawned over the new edition.

Two years passed for the Williamsons and their brightly shining star, Kiera, who filled every moment of their life with joy. Kiera was a very playful toddler; she loved games of all sorts and held an astounding sense of sportsmanship, even at such a young age. Clearly, she was tender-hearted, like her dear mother, Emilie, who hated to see any creature mistreated, not matter how big or small. With bouncing, golden curls and bright green eyes, she was absolutely the belle of the ball. Her vocabulary was very advanced for her age, and her speech skills were spectacular. It was obvious to the entire family that Kiera was destined for high achievements. Although the role of a woman in society was to bare children, tend to the house, and do her husband's bidding, Daniel and Emilie decided to have their daughter well-educated.

At the age of five, Kiera met her private tutor, a retired professor from Eastern France, named Phillipe. The two were friends instantly. With six children and nine grandchildren, he had excellent ways of keeping a young mind occupied and entertained. He taught her reading, writing, arithmetic, mathematics, and Kiera's favorite, music. Like most well-off families, music was placed as a high priority in education. Naturally, piano was the first instrument she learned to play, and she played it very well. Everyone enjoyed listening to the little child play merry tunes. She was no prodigy; she had to practice to play well, but nonetheless, she was an outstanding pianist.

The November before Kiera's tenth birthday, her mother fell ill with what they thought was a minor cold. She stayed in bed and ate soup, like most would; however, her condition worsened and continued to deteriorate until she was deathly pale and barely had enough strength to turn her head. At this point, Daniel was a complete mental wreck, and dear little Kiera hardly knew what to think or do. Her piano sat in silence, dust gathering on the keys; her sheets music lay in the same order she had left it on the very night her mother's illness became evident. Since then, every waking moment of her life was consumed with carrying for her mother and the house. There were servants who helped, but Kiera did as much as she could to keep her mind away from her mother. However, nothing seemed to work: reading, writing, dancing, studying… even music.

On February 7th, Kiera's birthday, Emilie died with both Daniel and Kiera at her side, and her mother at the back of the room. Daniel left immediately, followed by Rosaline, but Kiera, who should have been celebrating her birthday, remained at her mother's side, hoping she might wake up. She even took her cold hand and patted it, calling out to her, but her mother did not move. He tutor, Phillipe, plucked her from the room and carried her to the study, sitting her down at her little desk. He crouched to her level and looking directly into her eyes, asked if she knew what was going on. Of course, traumatized and confused, Kiera did not answer. He explained that her mother had died and would not come back…ever. It was painful for him to explain such a matter to the poor child, but he knew it was better that she knew now.

Three days later, Emilie was buried in a cemetery in a valley not far from the family's house outside of Paris. At the grave-side service, Daniel's face was of stone and Kiera, wept in silence, holding tightly to her grandmother's hand as she watched the dirt consume her mother's coffin, each shovel-full of dirt ripping at Kiera's heart.. Phillipe, who attended at his pupil's request, stood just behind the family, wondering what effects this event would have on the little girl. He tried to imagine what she was thinking, but Kiera was a difficult person to read and understand.

After the service, Daniel, Kiera, and Rosaline returned to their house and tried to move on, but it was impossible. Daniel sat in the den with the paper and bottle of brandy all day long. Kiera sat at her mother's vanity, trailing her tiny fingers across the brushes, combs, ribbons, and make-up articles. Looking into the mirror, Kiera imagined her mother sitting beside her, but when she turned, the space was empty. She had to embrace the reality that her beloved mother was gone, but for a child, moving on after losing a parent, is easier said than done.

After a year, the promising girl with a bright future had turned into a sad child who rarely looked to her future. Every day, for many hours, she sat in the attic with all her mother's belongings, which had been put away at Daniel's command. Unlike most children, she avoided the sun, having seemingly lost the ability to romp and play as children should. Her gold brown locks had faded to silver and her bright eyes were now as dark as the midnight sky. Neither a smile nor laughter could move the frown upon her face. The cheerful tunes she had entertained her family with had turned into sorrowful requiems. For one thought to be too young and naïve to grasp what was going on, the depression consuming her made it all too clear that she was perfectly aware of the circumstances.

Daniel, having grown into an incurable drunkard, rarely spoke to his once beloved daughter or acknowledged her presence. He left the house every night to go to the tavern, not to return until nearly dawn. Kiera, now eleven, was left in the care of her tutor, who came every night, unbeknownst to Daniel. His bond with Kiera was powerful; he loved her like she was his own granddaughter, who had died at the young age of six many years prior to his meeting with Kiera.

However, one night, Daniel stumbled home from the tavern accompanied by an unfamiliar woman named Cassandra that he proclaimed to be his fiancé. Phillipe, not wanting to leave the poor, lonely Kiera to her father's drunken madness, stayed out of sight. When Daniel called for his daughter, she came cautiously from the study and into the parlor preparing for the worst. He introduced her to Cassandra and demanded Kiera to call the strange woman mother from that point on. When Kiera refused, Daniel struck her across her right cheek with the back of his hand and ordered her again. Still, Kiera refused and fled to the drawing room and after a moment, began playing piano. Alas, though, Daniel found her and quickly threw her away from the piano with a rough shove and pushed the instrument out of the room and to the front door. Phillipe came from his hiding to take Kiera away and watched in horror as Daniel pushed the piano down the stone steps of the house, the frame shattering, destroying the beautiful instrument.

"Come, child." Phillipe took her hand and fled out the backdoor and to his horse. He lifted her on to the saddle in front of him, draping his jacket over her shoulders before turning the horse toward Paris. When he stopped the tired animal, they were outside a small cottage on the completely opposite side of the city; he lifted her from the saddle and carried her inside, out of the cold rain that had begun to fall. "I know that this is considered kidnapping, but I could not leave you there. Forgive me, dear little Kiera, but your father is unfit to raise you." She did not speak; she just stared at him, her pale face showing no expression even as the imprint of her father's hand began to flower on her cheeks in purple and blue. "I refuse to let him take you back, child. I cannot bear to know you are in that house with such a monster. You will stay with me for as long I can possibly keep you."


	2. Chapter 2

Kiera lived with Phillipe and his wife Genevieve for nearly a year. During this time she continued her lessons with Phillipe and practically became their adopted granddaughter. They doted upon her as often as they could. After the death of their only granddaughter nearly six years before Phillipe became Kiera's tutor, they felt rather empty, but Kiera soon helped them overcome such feelings. Aside from the absence of her parents and true grandparents, things were as they had been; however, Kiera had lost her interest in music. It seemed that she had buried it deep within her heart with the memory of her mother. Phillipe did all he could to revive the music within her but to no avail. Joy returned slowly to the little girl; she laughed and smiled far more than she had in years. However, in what would seem to become a reoccuring trend, happiness was violently torn away from her.

On a cold evening in late November, while Genevieve assisted Kiera in her crotcheting and Phillipe read the newspaper, a loud banging at the front door disturbed the placid atmosphere of the house, followed by a stream of curses that polluted the air. "Papa!" Kiera gasped in fear. Phillipe mouthed for Genevieve to take Kiera up to the attic. Genevieve immediately put away the yarn and needles and hurried Kiera up the stairs to the dusty attic. They huddled in the darkest corner, as far from the door as they could manage and waited. They did not hear the door open, nor Daniel stumble in. They could only faintly hear Phillipe as he spoke calmy to him, trying to ease the drunken Englishman. Then, all was quiet. Genevieve stood and started toward the attic door but the deafening gunshot that followed sent her back to Kiera. Now, both trembling in fear, Kiera buried her face in Genevieve's shoulder in fear as the irregular footsteps of the drunk man grew louder.

The attic door flew open after a brief silence, revealing Daniel. He looked around for a moment, unable to find them, but soon his glaring, red eyes found them, and he began to approach them, a pistol in hand. Genevieve put Kiera behind her and waited, but when he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. He had not reloaded it in his drunkenness. In hopes of wrestling it away from him, Genevieve threw herself at him, grabbing the barrel of the gun. Unfortunately, even in his tipsy state, he was still stronger than her and tossed her aside, but she did not give up. She tried again, but this time, she was met by the razor-sharp end of a knife. She fell against him as he drove the blade deeper into her stomach. Blood pooled in her mouth and slowly surpassed her bottom lip, trailing down her chin. She could not speak; only girggles and grunts of pain escaped her.

Daniel removed the blade and let Genevieve drop to the ground to die. His gaze fell on Kiera who now stood on trembling knees, terrified. His lips curled in a wicked grin as he drew nearer to her. "What's the matter, child? Afraid of your own father?" He held the knife at his side, blood still dripping from the point. He lunged at her suddenly, but she managed to dodge the strike. He whirled about to find her hurrying toward the door. "Get back here!" He stumbled after her, and in rage, he hurled the knife at her. It barely missed her, grazing her forearm enough to draw a bit of blood. When she stopped in shock, he tackled her to the ground and wrapped his hands around her throat. However, as he looked upon her, he thought he saw his beloved wife. "Emilie?" He stopped and simply stared at her, never noticing that Kiera's hand now grasped the knife he'd hurled at her. "My love, you are alive?" With one smooth stroke, Kiera plunged the blade into his chest. He gave a great cry and fell over, allowing her to scramble away. For a moment, just before death, he seemed to become his old self. He even spoke kind words to her, or at least what little she could understand was kind. For a brief moment, he looked at her with soft eyes and even smiled, before dying. Perhaps the gentle father from her toddler days had not been completely lost afterall.

Kiera dropped the knife and quickly went to Genevieve's side. The kind woman had already passed, and Kiera was certain that Phillipe was probably gone as well. With no one left to turn to, she simply kissed the foreheads of Geneiveve and Phillipe and fled the city, taking only her coat, a loaf of bread wrapped in a handkerchief, and her favorite horse Maestro. She rode for several days before arriving in a small town to the east of Paris. It was night when she arrived and the town's square was nearly void of life, except for a young couple enjoying a quiet moment on the edge of the fountain at the square's center. The woman was the first to see her approaching, still mounted on Maestro, and her first reaction was to scream as though Kiera was some sort of ghost or demon come to steal her soul. The young man quickly took his lover in his arms as if to shield her. Kiera stopped Maestro and stared at them, unsure of what to do. By now, the entire town had come out of their homes to stare fearfully at the now twleve-year-old Kiera.

"It's the ghost of a child come back from the grave to tell us her story; she must be an apparition," said one older man. "We should not upset her; she could unleash her wrath on our town and haunt us." He approached her cautiously. "Tell us, spirit, who are you?"

Kiera thought for a long moment. If these people believed her to be a ghost, perhaps she should let them. "I cannot recall my name, but I reacll living here. Long ago, my mother was accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake, leaving my absolutely alone. This village, without proof, drowned me. I have come to avenge my mother's death and my own." She glared at them coldly.

The village gasped and backed away. No one could recall such an event, but out of fear, they fell on their faces and begged her forgiveness. "Spirit, I beg you not to seek revenge. Allow us to serve you and show you how sorry we are for what happened to you so long ago," an older man said. "Please, spirit. We beg you!"

She came down from Maestro and stared at them all for a long moment. "As you wish. You will hence forth do as I command. You will bring me whatever I ask for and provide me excellent lodgings for as long as I choose to stay here." He nodded and led her to the largest house in the village. "This looks quite quaint. Do you live here?"

"Yes, Spirit. I am the town mayor; this is the finest house in the entire village. I hope you will find our guest rooms suitable." He opened the door and showed her up the stairs to a lovely room. "Will this room suffice, Spirit?"

"It will do nicely. Now, bring me a meal; even though I am dead, I have not let go of routine and habit." The mayor hurried away, only to return in a matter of moments with a hot bowl of soup, a slice of bread, and a cup of water. "Thank you, sir. You may go." He bowed and left her in peace. As she lay down on the large bed, she smiled. _These people are so very foolish; they would likely give me anything I commanded, even a blood sacrifice_, she thought. _No matter how this may work to my advantage and how gullible they are, I cannot stay here for long. After a time, they will grow suspicious._ After a few more moments, she fell asleep

For several months, Kiera enjoyed the powerful fear she held over the ignorant, superstitious townsfolk, but eventually, she grew tired of them and resolved to move on. One evening, she saddled Maestro and galloped around the town's square until the entire village emerged from their homes. "Your debt has been repaid. Your hospitality has been sufficient to quench my thirst for revenge. I leave you now in peace, for I am called away by the Almighty. Farewell." She turned Maestro and rode away into the darkness. She wasn't sure exactly where she was headed for, but she was certain that she would eventually find an intriguing place to stop for a time.

She traveled across France for months, stopping at gullible villages along the way to rest, taking advantage of their fear. However, she grew very tired of her ghost/demon routine, and soon decided to find another way. She tried to earn her food honestly by working, but no one in the villages would let her. They were all frightened by her appearance. However, on occasion a gentle hearted person would allow her to chop firewood or clean for them; of course, she was paid very little, but it was enough for her to scrape through life. She rarely stayed at any one place for more than a week and traveled for a week or more at a time. Alas, though, Maestro could go no further; he was relatively young, but he expressed an increasing resistence to the traveling. So, Kiera sold him to a farmer who wanted a horse for short trips to town. After seeing that her old friend was settled in his new home (and the farmer's wife allowed her to leave), she bought a train ticket to Persia from a man in Germany. At first she was rather warey of such a lengthy trip, but having considered her other experiences in life, she concluded that she might as well take the long journey.


End file.
